Valinor or Vanity?
by LuxaLucifer
Summary: The Ringbearers have left Middle-Earth, headed for the Undying Lands. They are tired, world-weary, and bored when they reach their destination. Unfortunately, there's a mix up, and they land in...Malibu.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer- I don't own Lord of the Rings.

So...I haven't done a fanfiction purely for fun in a long time, and I thought my works needed to lighten up, so I wrote this little parody.

Bilbo, Frodo, Elrond, Galadriel and Gandalf, apparently with no crew whatsoever, are off to the Undying Lands, when things get a little mixed up...and they end up in California.

Enjoy! :)

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"Hey, Elrond?" Frodo was pacing the deck, his small hands clasped behind him. He'd been pacing for the last three hours, to the point of driving Galadriel, Bilbo, and Gandalf below deck to get away from him. Elrond alone was prepared to deal with the irritating hobbit, having spent several thousand years with Elladan and Elrohir.

"_Master_ Elrond." reminded Elrond absentmindedly, threading a needle carefully through his needlework. He was leaning back on a traditional Elvish lounge chair, wearing traditional Elvish sunglasses.

"You should stop calling yourself Master. It makes you sound like a porn star." commented Frodo.

"I know."

"Then why-"

"That's why I do it." One of Elrond's pointed eyebrows moved up slightly, and Frodo found it wise to shut up. For a minute.

"Master Elrond?"

"Yes, dear hobbit?" Where Elrond got his patience Frodo'd never know. He still remembered the time Gandalf choked a hobbit child because he'd consistently nagged Gandalf about genitalia-shaped fireworks. He'd been banned from the Shire for three years, although everyone, including the child, forgot after six months, letting Gandalf sneak back in. Too much pipe-weed all around.

"Do you remember that little ring I carried for a while?"

Elrond swore suddenly. Frodo looked at him with concern.

"Sorry. Pricked myself with a needle. You were saying?"

"Remember the One Ring?"

Now that Elrond was actually paying attention to Frodo, he gave him his absolute most scathing look, usually reserved for people who tried to sell him useless things, like pottery, or lawnmowers. "Yes, Frodo, I vaguely remember there being a ring."

Frodo disregarded the sarcasm. "So, I was wondering...is that Mount Doom thing permanent?"

Elrond couldn't find it in himself to reply.

"Like, I couldn't reach down and reform it or something? Or make another one with the lava?"

"Frodo Baggins," said Elrond finally, speaking like you would to a child. "Even if it wasn't, which thankfully it is, you're on a boat in the middle of the ocean on your way to V-"

Elrond cut himself off, slowly rising from his lounge chair. He lifted the sunglasses off his face, squinted at the sun, and said, in a voice of reverence, "I think we made it."

"Dammit." said Frodo.

"Something doesn't seem right," observed Galadriel. "Why do I feel like we're not in Valinor?"

Gandalf puffed on his empty pipe. They'd run out of pipe-weed weeks ago, when Bilbo had stolen it all and gotten ridiculously smashed. Gandalf, instead of punishing him, had ended up rolling on the floor with the old hobbit. Gandalf was _not_ smashed.

The old wizard rolled his eyes. "Because we're _not _in Valinor," he replied. "I don't think Men are allowed there."

"Men..." whined Frodo. "So many of them, as far as the eye can see..."

There were indeed Men. Small ones, big ones, lady ones, child ones. They milled about the beach in a disorderly fashion, showing off their large breasts or saggy skin. Or both.

A good number of them had gathered around their ship, speaking some unintelligible language. Elrond waved and smiled and listened to them talk. "I think I've heard a dialect of this before. Maybe I can ask them where we are?"

They were standing ankle deep in muddy water. Frodo was supporting Bilbo, who was mumbling something about fruit. Galadriel's pristine robes were soaking wet and the edges were dark brown.

Elrond approached a woman. She was extremely tan and was wearing next to nothing, making Elrond feel excessively uncomfortable. He stared at her face, trying not to looked at her polka-dotted bra. Frodo was conveniently located where he was stuck staring at her belly-button, which had a silver ring in it. It reminded him of the One Ring. He wished it was the One Ring.

"Hello ma'am," said Elrond politely. "Do you know where we are?"

He was speaking in very, very ancient old English, and all the woman heard was "Hello."

She started laughing, and Gandalf shoved him over. "Step aside, Lordie. I speak moron."

"Excuse me?" replied Elrond haughtily.

Gandalf rapped his staff on the bleached blonde's skull, and she nearly fell over. "What the hell?" she yelled. The group was surprised they could understand her. Gandalf gave Elrond a broski chest-bump to celebrate his awesomeness.

Bilbo tottered towards her. "Hello, young lady," he croaked. "You're sexy."

"Are you a midget?"

"Where are we?" countered Elrond.

She cocked her head at him. "You look familiar."

"I can't see how. Where are we?"

She looked at Frodo and Gandalf. "You do too."

"Where are we?" repeated Elrond.

She squinted at Galadriel. "You, not so much."

"Screw you, bitch."

"Where are we?"

The woman snapped her manicured nails in Elrond's face. "I got it! You were in The Matrix!"

None of this was remotely understood.

"_Where are we?"_ growled Elrond.

"Oh, yeah. Malibu, baby!"

"What's a Malibu?" asked Bilbo. "Can you eat it?"

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Reviews are love! :)


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer- I don't own Lord of the Rings.

Longest update ever. Life got hard.

Enjoy! :)

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"I don't understand," whined Galadriel. "Why do _I _have to carry the bags?"

Gandalf shrugged. "I'm an old man. My staff gets heavy. And you know as well as I do that Elrond's nails are still drying."

"I don't give a shit about your stupid nails!"

Elrond was horrified. "This nail polish was a gift from Arwen! Your own granddaughter! For _shame_!"

"Arwen didn't get _me_ any..." pouted Galadriel.

"Guess she loves Daddy more."

"Not enough to stay with him!"

Elrond teared up and refused to talk to anyone for the two hours.

Frodo started skipping. "Where are we going again?"

"Frodo," growled Gandalf. "I've told you four times."

"For plot exposition, remember?"

Gandalf shrugged. "Who cares if the readers are confused? It doesn't affect _my_ life."

A giant rock fell on Gandalf's face.

Bilbo tapped Frodo's shoulder. "I think..." he mumbled hoarsely. "The lady with the boobs..."

"As opposed to the lady without them?" grumbled Gandalf irritably, rubbing his sore nose.

"...she said to ask a policeman."

"What's a policeman?" asked Frodo.

"I'm a banana, darling, and I'd like you to eat me." replied Bilbo promptly.

"Yeah, okay...what's a policeman?"

Elrond, the only one who knew what a policeman was, was currently talking to himself and crying.

Gandalf walked up to a random person and hit them on the head with his staff. "Hello," he said shortly.

"What the hell?" yelled the annoyed and confused man. Frodo and Company were beginning to think this was the standard greeting for humans.

"What's a policeman?" asked Gandalf.

The man stared at him. "Are you a carnie?"

"Are you a dumbass?" replied Gandalf testily. "I've known hobbits with more brains then you!"

"I find that offensive!" added Frodo angrily, before Bibo tugged him away to show him the display of candy corn outside a shop window.

Galadriel glided gracefully up to the man. "What's your name, moronic mortal?"

He stared at her. "You're beautiful."

"I know. What the hell is your name?"

"Author McLazy." he said dreamily.

"Okay, Author. Now I want you to suck my dick."

"What?" said Gandalf, alarmed.

Elrond, who had just started to resurface, heard this line and collapsed into tears again. "That's my mother in law!" he wailed.

Galadriel shrugged. "Just wanted to see if it would work. _Anyway_...Author, what's a policeman?"

Author pointed to a large building conveniently located a couple of blocks from where they were. "Can I...?"

"Yes, darling?" said Galadriel patiently.

"Can I...have three strands of your hair?"

Galadriel's face hardened. "Not _another_ one. How tall do you think this guy is?There's no way he's a distant descendent of Gimli, right?"

"Hey, guys?" said Frodo suddenly. "Where'd we leave the boat?"

There was a moment of silence.

"Shit." said Gandalf.

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Reviews are love! :)


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer- I don't own LOTR.

I've totally had this written forever, I'm just lazy...

Enjoy! :)

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After they safely tied up the boat at the back of a place called "Long John Silver's" (which they deemed safe because it had a picture of a boat on it), they found their way back to the police station.

"So...what you're saying is..." said the policemen slowly. "...you've gotten lost on your way to this 'Valinor', which sounds suspiciously like Heaven, and you're trying to find your way back. It sounds like you've also somehow managed to park your boat in the back of a fast food establishment."

"Yes, we're quite aware," replied Gandalf testily. "Could you direct us to the nearest Elvish colony?"

"Sir, I think I may need to call the-"

"-police?" finished Galadriel pointedly.

"Eh, yeah. What I meant to say was, I may need to escort you to the hospital. We have some lovely rooms with a nice view of the pavement, and-"

Galadriel strutted forward and pulled up the hem of her robes, exposing a white ankle. "I don't think you'll want to do that." she purred.

The officer stared at her. "No thank you."

Elrond coughed. "Stand back, you old hag."

Frodo and Bilbo latched onto her legs to prevent her from attacking her son-in-law.

Elrond glided forward and smiled naughtily. He grabbed one of the officer's hands and placed it on his ass. "Your hands are so...big," he murmured. "I wonder...could I convince you otherwise if I promise to give you a little show?"

To the others' shock and amazement, the officer nodded happily and dragged Elrond into a seedy bar. Twenty minutes later, Elrond emerged, wiping his mouth and looking disgruntled.

"You're _married_!" gasped Frodo.

"I spent two thousand years in Gil-galad's army," chuckled Elrond in reply. "You learn a thing or two."

Galadriel glared at him. "You're married indeed...to my _daughter!"_

"Oh, don't give me that crap. I know what Celebrían liked to do behind closed doors, and it certainly didn't involve my penis."

"Neither did that." sniggered Gandalf.

A rock fell on Gandalf's face.

"We're nowhere near a cliff!" he scowled.

A Balrog fell on Gandalf's face.

Forty minutes later, after Gandalf arm-wrestled the Balrog into submission, they found themselves, although not in an asylum, no closer to figuring out where they were. With help from a disgruntled hippie they found their way to an office labeled "Foreign Tour Guide Help" conveniently located near them. A _lot _of things were conveniently located near them.

"What language do you speak?" asked the help center clerk, speaking slowly and loudly. Elrond, being a sexy genius Elf, had already picked up English and replied, thankfully without Gandalf needing to hit him on the head with his staff.

"Right now, I speak, er, American, I believe," he replied, his accent thick. And sexy. Thick and sexy. "But I can also speak Westron, Quenyan, Sindarian, that one language the Rohirrim speak-"

"Oooooooh," said Bilbo dreamily. "The Rohirrim are sexy."

"But not as sexy as Master Elrond!" piped up Frodo.

"Yes, I agree," continued Elrond seamlessly. "-I also speak Dwarvish, which was difficult to learn, requiring several rather disgusting hand-jobs to wean it out of a Dwarf, and-"

The help center clerk stared. "Your...original language?"

"Sindarian. I think."

"Are you from...Sindar?" asked the clerk, trying to figure out if he'd forgotten about a country. Was that in the Middle East somewhere? No, wait, this guy spoke lots of languages, and _everyone_ knew Asians spoke lots of languages. Asian, that had to be it.

"I'm horny." announced Galadriel to nobody in particular.

"Can't help you there," said Gandalf rather sadly. "We wizards have no genitalia."

The clerk cleared his throat. "So...what do you want?"

"We're trying to find the Elves," said Elrond. "Got any ideas?"

To their surprise, the clerk brightened and pointed to a poster on the wall. "Yeah, sure! They're in town this week! Those people are _weird._"

Elrond followed the direction of the finger. "Carnival?" he read slowly. "Featuring...tantalizing titties...fantastic freaks...awesome acrobats...and the star of our show, the elegant Elves!"

"What's a titty?" asked Bilbo. "Can you eat it?"

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Weirdly enough, this story has a plot.

Reviews are love!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer- I don't own it.

Sorry I've been so long, really, I am! This one is short, but I have the next one halfway done!

Enjoy! :)

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"I don't see why they call it a carnival," mused Galadriel. "There isn't anything especially unusual here."

As she said this a man with three hands walked by.

"You need to get out more," advised Gandalf. "Elrond, what do you think you're doing?"

Elrond looked over from the full-body mirror he was staring soulfully into. "Do you think I'm getting wrinkles?"

"...No, Elrond. I don't."

"Are you_ sure?" _asked Elrond suspiciously.

"Yes."

Bilbo took this opportunity to crawl up Elrond's leg and latch there, possibly permanently. Elrond wasn't bothered. Bilbo was a quiet house-guest.

Frodo decided to take initiative and walk up to the ticket-booth. "Hello," he said politely, getting on his tip-toes. "Can we have tickets?"

The ticket-person, without looking up, said, "Sure. Ten bucks for adults, eight for kids. Senior citizens can kiss my ass."

Elrond, Galadriel, and Gandalf to an immediate disliking to this man.

"Old coots," chortled Bilbo, who was drooling a little onto Elrond's good silk stockings. Elrond didn't care. It wasn't the worst those stockings had seen.

"We don't have any money," Frodo was telling the ticket-person. "But Elrond here can pay you in blowjobs."

"Frodo, when did you learn English?" asked Elrond as he approached the ticket-person.

Frodo shrugged. "It's late, and the author has school tomorrow. She doesn't feel like fixing it."

"Good enough for me," piped up Galadriel, figuring she needed more dialogue.

Elrond rubbed his temples. "Frodo, I can't give blowjobs to every damn government worker we see."

"I'm not a government worker," said the ticket-person hopefully. He was wearing a scarily large grin.

Elrond weighed his options. "C'mon," he practically growled. It was rather sexy. He grabbed the ticket-person's shirt collar. "Let's get this over with."

They left the room. Frodo stared.

"Bilbo's still on his leg."

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Reviews are love!


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer- I don't own it. Thankfully.

Enjoy! :)

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They found seats with relative ease, and Gandalf had even managed to procure a large drink and a handful of napkins for Elrond, who was grumpy, irritable, and had a bad taste in his mouth when he returned. He snatched the drink from Gandalf's outstretched hand. Bilbo hopped off his leg and squashed himself in a seat between Galadriel and Gandalf. The two avoided looking at the hobbit.

"You know, you're not going to be able to rely on my superior throating abilities forever," grumbled Elrond, sipping at his drink angrily. "One of these days I'm not gonna be there, and who's gonna give the blow-jobs then, huh?"

"There there," comforted Gandalf, patting Elrond on the shoulder.

Frodo timidly raised his hand. Bilbo slapped it down. "No child of mine will be a whore." he croaked.

Elrond burst into tears and ran out of the room. Galadriel shook her head. "He always _was_ a temperamental little bitch."

Gandalf suddenly felt that the room was getting a little warm.

All of a sudden the lights dimmed. They gripped their armchairs in anticipation.

"What's a freak show?" asked Frodo.

Several people shushed him.

"I'll tell you when you're older," hissed Bilbo.

A man walked onto stage. He was a scary man. Bilbo was scared. Frodo was scared. Gandalf was scared. Galadriel was...a little turned on.

After several acts involving ketchup, toothpaste, and the author's level of sleep deprivation, the pinnacle of the show was about to begin. Several suave acrobats flipped about being pretty, doing stuff and wagging their butts.

And then...the Elves. All of them leaned forward when they saw the blonde Elves dance onstage, wearing very little and being most un-Elvish-like indeed. Galadriel gasped every time she saw an exposed thigh.

Bilbo drooled. "Meat."

Finally the lead performer came out. They all squinted at the thing he was riding. They caught a glimpse of blonde hair from atop it.

"What the hell is it?" asked Frodo finally. "Some kind of moose?"

Gandalf and Galadriel groaned.

"It's an elk," they said in unison, to faces stricken with horror. "Aw, _shit_."

Galadriel buried her face in her hands. "Oh no..."

"What? What is it?" asked Frodo frantically. "I'm so confused!"

"It's..." Galadriel hesitated, feeling that she was about to utter a dirty word. "It's..."

"Thranduil." finished Gandalf morosely.

Elrond walked back in, toilet paper trailing on the bottom of his shoe. "What'd I miss?"

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I feel like a sellout for including Thranduil...Reviews are love! :)


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer- I don't own LOTR.

Sorry for the delay! Enjoy! :)

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"It's been how many years and Thranduil's _still_ here?" complained Galadriel. "I figured that his absence was the only good thing about this place!"

Gandalf sighed. "Why. I mean, really. _Why?_ He's not even that important to the story, and all these girls are going crazy over him! Ugh!"

"I never found him that attractive," sulked Elrond.

"You're just pissy because you got stuck as a forty year old man for all eternity," snickered Galadriel.

"Yeah, well, at least I'm not a bitch for all eternity!" retorted Elrond.

"Except...you kinda are."

The burn was palpable.

Thranduil was right in the middle of a double-twist acrobatic split in the air on wires while cleaning his teeth with toothpaste of the gods when he looked into the stands (with bright, clear, gorgeous eyes) and noticed the party of five. His mouth opened in shock and he performed a backflip over to them, bowing out of the show with magical plot skills.

"Galadriel, you old whore!" he grinned.

"Thranduil, you old prick!" she said affectionately.

He placed a well-manicured hand to his chest in mock hurt. "Old? I resent that remark!"

"Resemble, more like," pointed out Gandalf. "What has it been, five thousand years?"

"Six, actually. I thought you all had abandoned this fair planet for your Valinor."

"It's your Valinor too, you know," replied Galadriel.

"That place couldn't handle _my _light," bragged Thranduil.

Thranduil noticed Elrond, who closed his eyes. "Halfelven! Is your cackhole as open as ever?"

"I wish you death and high taxes."

"So I take it you've gotten this far through blow-jobs?"

Elrond turned up his nose and gave Thranduil the silent treatment. Thranduil responded by squeezing Elrond's ass far harder than normal, eliciting a yelp from the poor abused Half-elf.

"So what _are_ you doing here?" drawled Thranduil.

"Looking for a way to get to Valinor," replied Galadriel, rolling her eyes. "Obviously. Got any ideas?"

"No, but I can put the ol' thinking cap on and try! Come on over to my place and we can talk about it."

"What thinking cap?" muttered Elrond. "What brain?"

Bilbo patted Elrond's arm gently. "It's okay, old man. You don't need to try anymore. Soon they'll send you to the farm where all good animals go."

Frodo bit his lip. "I don't think you're helping."

"Shut up, Frodo m'boy, unless you want to end up flushed down the toilet like your goldfish!"

"_That's _what happened to Sammy?" wailed Frodo. "He wasn't even dead!"

"He was dead to _me!_"

"Don't tell me what to do! you're not my real father!"

Thranduil stared at the hobbits. "What in pompadour's sake are those? Especially hairy midgets?"

"No," sighed Gandalf. "They're hobbits."

"Hob-a-what?" spluttered Thranduil.

"They were instrumental during the War of the Ring! Y

ou were t-oh, never mind," sighed Elrond, giving up. He turned away from the others, deciding to keep his mouth shut from both blow-jobs and words.

Thranduil squinted closely at the hobbits. "They're the perfect height to give one a blow-job, are they not?"

Frodo and Bilbo edged away from Thranduil slowly.

"Frodo?"

"Yes, Uncle?"

"Do you still have my old Ring? Because it would be super duper useful right now."

"Gollum made me destroy it. Annoying little bugger."

"Who?"

"I see you're no longer lucid."

"Can you eat a lucid?"

Frodo tried to edge away from Bilbo but ended up running back into Thranduil, who grabbed him by the scruff and licked him from hairline to chin.

"Struck by lightning, struck by lightning!" cried Frodo.

Bilbo kicked Frodo in the shin. "That's my line!"

Galadriel sniffed Thranduil. "My dear, I believe you do smell of prunes."

"Weren't we going to go to your place or something, Poncyboots?" asked Gandalf, desperately hoping to get his so-called friends back on the right track.

Thranduil clapped his hands together gleefully. "That's right! Come, come..."

Thranduil led them out of the circus tent, past the fairly confused viewers, and to his house.

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Reviews are love! :)


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer- I don't own it.

Sorry for the enjoy! Enjoy! :)

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Thranduil swung his hips as he walked. It was very distracting for everyone behind him, doomed to watch those leather-clad hips sway back and forth, back and forth, back and forth...

Galadriel was oblivious to this, as she was next to Thranduil, chatting gaily. There were like two peas in a pod. Two sassy old bitches.

Thranduil house turned out to be a trailer at the back of the surface. It was large, pink, and decorated with sequins everywhere. And had giant antlers attached to the front.

"This is the Elk," announced Thranduil proudly, hand on his hip. "It's my pride and joy."

Elrond was trying his best not to throw up. "I'm sure Legolas would have been so proud," he said weakly.

Thranduil waved his hand flippantly. "Oh Elrond, you old tart, who cares what my crusty old son would have thought of it? His taste was _so_ passe."

Now Elrond wished he _would _throw up, just to prove a point.

He opened the door and led them inside. If Elrond had thrown up, he was sure it would have been butterflies and rainbows in a place this fairylike. The walls were covered with newspaper clippings of both Marilyn Monroe and Marilyn Manson, and the seats were large plush high-heeled shoes. Galadriel sank into one without hesitation, and Bilbo and Frodo disappeared into one together, the tops of their curly heads poking out.

Gandalf hit his staff against one of the plush high-heels and turned it into a real armchair, feeling triumphant as he sank into it.

"Since when can you do that kind of magic?" asked Galadriel curiously.

"Don't question me, Gally, or certain drawings of you and a certain wizard with bird shit on his face will go public."

Galadriel crossed her arms. "Prick."

"Takes one to know one."

Thranduil got them all drinks. Elrond and the other large adults had been seriously looking forward to a potent wine, so they were sorely disappointed when Thranduil handed them all glasses of chocolate milk.

"I've gone off the drinking," he revealed, smiling proudly. "I have to keep a good figure, after all."

Everyone stared at Thranduil.

Bilbo poked his head far enough out of the chair to squeak, "The spiders once said they'd grow wings the day you stopped drinking."

Alarmed, Gandalf said quickly, "Thranduil, for the sake of us all, drink! we don't want spiders with wings."

"Or would they be wings with spiders attached?" mused Elrond philosophically. He was largely ignored, except by Frodo, who seriously thought about it.

Thranduil sat on the ledge of his bright pink dresser and crossed his legs. Every stared at his legs. How could you not?

"So, what are you boys doing here in the present? You were supposed to have skipped this world a long time ago."

"Our boat got sidetracked," said Gandalf. None of them really understood it themselves. "I think we may have chosen a bad boat."

"Nonsense," scoffed Thranduil. "Círdan made that boats. All his boats are like goats."

"What?" said Galadriel. "You make about as much sense as a moldy lemon."

"They're both flawless."

"...Of course."

Suddenly it dawned on them. Círdan! He had once said he wouldn't leave until all the Elves were gone- if Thranduil was still there, that meant he had to be around!"

"Círdan!" shouted Elrond and Galadriel at the same time. "Thrandy, do you know where he is?" Their reply in unison must have directly resulted from their in-law powers.

Thranduil tapped a finger against his chin. "Let me see...I think he's in New York, New York."

"New York, New York? If they couldn't think of two separate names, it must be a small town!" cried Gandalf. "Let us be going!" Picking up the drooling hobbits, he dashed out of the room. Galadriel waved bye to Thranduil as she passed. Elrond just gave him the finger.

Thranduil looked around at five glasses of chocolate milk. He clapped his hands in delight. "More for me!"

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Reviews are love! :)


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer- I don't own it.

Enjoy! :)

* * *

"I hate to tell you this, Gandalf," said Galadriel slowly, chewing on a stick of candy she'd stolen from a child. "But I don't think New York, New York is a small town."

Gandalf poked a skyscraper. His finger came back black.

"You know, Gally, I think you may be right."

Frodo, who was riding on Galadriel's shoulders, waved hi to every person he met, smiling cheerfully. Elrond was significantly less happy, as Bilbo was riding on his shoulders and constantly drooling on his head.

Gandalf strolled up to a passerby in a suit. "Excuse me, sir, do you know where we could find Círdan?"

"C...írdan?" repeated the man in the suit slowly. "What's that?"

Gandalf scowled and crossed his arms. "You're so ignorant. Círdan is only the best stripper in all of Arda, surely you must know-"

Elrond cut him off, rolling his eyes. "Gandalf, look, he doesn't care about Círdan's personal life. Just tell him his profession."

"Oh that," scoffed Gandalf. "He builds boats. Do you have a port anywhere?"

"Um...kind of...not this downtown...or for, like, miles around," said the scared businessman. "Trying boat building companies."

And the businessman, like so many others, scurried away quickly.

The company, used to this by now, set off in search of a port. It took them the better half of two weeks, sleeping on awnings, eating in sewers. Bilbo must have thrown up at least three times due to "overactive thyroid problems," and Elrond spent his time looking in all the window reflections to make sure his eye-shadow was spot on.

The first port turned out to have no leads as to where Círdan was. The second was also a no go. The third, however, knew of the missing shipwright, also when they brought him up they all sniggered and turned red from trying not to laugh. However, since people reacted to them like this on a daily basis, they thought nothing of it.

When they finally approached the fated ship harbor, Frodo decided to see if he could jump off Galadriel's shoulder without breaking his legs. It turned out he could, although he wasn't sure if his ankle would ever really be the same again. Oh, and his Nazgul scar still hurt, like, all the time. Ow.

"Guys," he said softly, nursing his ankle, "I don't know if I wanna get on that boat."

"What?" asked Elrond, so surprised his lipstick missed his mouth, smearing across his cheek.

"I just...I sorta like it here."

Gandalf nearly choked on his laugher. "_Like_ it? Why would you ever like _this_ place?"

"Well...I dunno. The candy?"

Gandalf shook his head. "C'mon, you little fart, enough with that. We're going."

"No!" protested Frodo, stomping his foot. "I refuse to move! I'm staying here!"

Galadriel rolled her eyes and picked him up by the armpits. "C'mon, you little shit," she said grumpily. "Let's go."

With no regard to Frodo's free will, they continued into the harbor, which was decorated in pink neon lights. Gandalf aprroved, while Elrond and Bilbo argued over whether or not pink constituted as a real color. Galadriel just closed her eyes, tried to drown out the sound of Frodo sobbing, and walked into a pole.

They aprroached a man dressed in only a pair of lavender khaki pants. He was appraising his boat, which was pink and had "_Fairy Queen_" painted on the side in glow-in-the-dark green.

"Do you know where we could find Círdan the Shipwright?" asked Elrond plantively.

The man raised a manicured eyebrow at them.

Galadriel gave him the once over. "Or Círdan the stripper, if that's how you know him."

They heard a soft cough behind them, and they all turned around to see a tall, mannish woman with pointed ears smiling at them from within the depths of her withered old face. She tapped a high-heeled foot at them and winked.

"C-Círdan?"

"It's Círdana now," she said pointedly.

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	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer- I don't own it.

Enjoy! :)

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Círdana spent several minutes explaining that after millennia living in Middle-earth, he-or she-had finally realized what she had been missing this entire time- femininity. She decided to travel to the New World to start a new harbor, as Thranduil and a few other Elves insisted on sticking around. She said she didn't really regret making the promise to stay until all the Elves had left, because she had made some rather good..._friends. _

They all listened to this with glazed eyes and promptly asked for a boat. Círdana told them that she had only one elf boat in store, and she was reluctant to part with it, as the stupid Elves never sent them back...

Elrond got a strangely steely look in his eyes. "I've got this, guys. Time for me to show off my skills."

He and Círdana went to the back, and Elrond emerged twenty minutes later with a grin, even if his lipstick was smeared.

"She's not completely female, let's just leave it there," was all he would say.

Círdana was more than willing to part with the boat after that, and they waved goodbye from the sequined deck. Well, everyone waved but frodo, who was tied to a pole, screaming.

Galadriel raised her eyebrows at Elrond. "You must really be something at that."

He winked. "Too bad you'll never not, hmm, vagina-bearer?"

She smacked him upside the head just as Gandalf looked strangely thoughtful.

They watched the shores of wherever the port was recede and felt at peace as they went off on their way.

"Wait..." said Elrond. "What about our original boat? Why didn't we just sail back out on it?"

They were silent.

"Shut up, Elrond," said Galadriel wisely.

Bilbo looked up from eating the hem of Galadriel's dress and nodded sagely.

The End

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I guess this is the last chapter, because that says The End up there. I'm lazy, this story is ridiculous, and I've lost my inspiration. A big thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited, or follwoed this story! Thanks for reading! :)


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